


Your Steps Keep Me Awake (REVISED)

by ActualHurry



Series: Letters from a Renegade: Epilogue [6]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Except not in that order and also multiple times, Identity Porn, Lore Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 18:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18481798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualHurry/pseuds/ActualHurry
Summary: Shin ties up loose ends. The Drifter's less than thrilled about it.(Takes place before "VI: A Gift and a Touch of Gray" and a bit after.)---Revised version, compliant with Joker's Wild lore. Original version is still available in series.





	Your Steps Keep Me Awake (REVISED)

**Author's Note:**

> Less changed with this one! Mostly just added some history. From here, they’ll take a little more finagling to fit, but I’m excited to get back into the meat of things.

_Then._

Yor still walked, a monster, an evil, a man. Jaren was dead. His Light gone. And Shin was left behind, utterly alone.

 _One last lesson,_ Jaren had written him. _The only permanent is eternity._

The tears in Shin’s eyes had long since fallen. He was entrenched in his grief, but he’d cried it all out way back on Earth. It felt like another life already, another life in another place.

_You’ve got roads yet traveled and lives yet lived._

The Solar winds buffeted him as he strode down forgotten, hard paths. It was a necessary pilgrimage. It was a fight of its own. Shin’s shields dipped dangerously low against the constant heat; he was way out of the Vanguard’s range now. No patrols were going to stumble over him.

_I know you got hate in you._

Shin was angry. His search for a complete and final vengeance had led him here, to learn to burn inside and out, to stoke that fire in his chest and let the embers of his heart redden.

_Don't hunt 'em 'cause you been wronged._

It was more than that, it had to be more than that –

_Hunt 'em 'cause what they did was wrong._

Everything Dredgen Yor had ever done was wrong, it was all wrong. It was death incarnate and shadows cast on innocents. It was a mockery of righteousness, a facade of strength, wrong, wrong, wrong. Yor was not strong for what he did. Yor fell to his corruption. Yor was weak, and Shin had to be stronger. There was a choice. There was always a choice.

 _There’s a world of difference there, kid_.

Shin had the letter memorized so well that he could hear Jaren’s voice reading it out in his head. He knew what came next.

_One makes you selfish._

The wind pressed against him. He leaned into it.

_The other makes you a hero._

His shields failed. Heat coursed through his armor, singed his fingertips.

_And I see a hero in you._

Oh, did it burn.

_Safe journeys. Straight aim. And good huntin’._

Shin caught ashes in his hands and lit it all ablaze.

 

 _Now._

Shin had put enough plots into motion through his long life to know that plans were slippery things. He had no idea if his plan for the Guardian would succeed or fail. He couldn’t very well go to the Drifter and wait to see them come back in one piece. The Drifter would sooner put that Malfeasance’s barrel up against his head and fire…and fire…and fire…

Shin rubbed his temples absently. They needed to have a chat, sooner than later.

But the fact that he couldn’t stick ‘round and wait alongside Drifter meant he had to exercise other options. Less simple ones. Nothing new; The Man with the Golden Gun had worked alone for ages, relying on himself and his Ghost. He couldn’t reach out to the Vanguard, not for this. Maybe if Andal was still around, but…no sense in lingering on it.

Though there was one person he hadn’t had a chat with in a long while, now that he thought of it.

That single whimsical consideration was how Shin ended up tucked in the dark corner of a City bar. Most Guardians didn’t come down this far off the high wall, but Shin found places like this, run by regular people with incredible lives, familiar. Nostalgic.

Closer to the bar, a group attentively watched the screen above them, chatting about the ongoing Crucible match. The bartender cleaned the counter, every so often glancing upwards to see the score. The amber lamp over Shin’s table swayed on its wire, casting shadows around him that changed shape. He kept the hood of his cloak up, eyes downcast, lips sitting on the edge of his half-full whiskey glass.

Someone else walked into the bar. Shin’s first clue was the overwhelming silence that their entrance brought. The second clue was the loud rhythm of the strides that accompanied the newcomer up to his table.

“I was aimin’ for subtlety,” Shin said into his glass. Slowly, everyone else in the bar returned to their earlier activities, but he was careful to keep his voice down anyway.

Shaxx sat down in the booth across from him. “You should have asked to meet Ikora then.”

“And have my ideas shot down for the hundredth time?” Shin flicked his gaze up, set at ease. “Been awhile.”

“It has.” And despite the helmet covering Shaxx’s face, Shin could hear that smile clear as day. “After I received your last letter, I assumed we would meet under more dire circumstances.”

Shin set his glass down, shaking his head. “I did what I said I would do. I watched.”

“And you saw nothing to have you end things.”

He hesitated. “No.”

“That wasn’t resounding approval,” Shaxx said, unconvinced. “I know you favor him for reasons admittedly unknown to me, but –”

“It’s not that,” Shin said quickly, warmth blooming at the back of his neck. “I found somebody. I handed it down. Not the con, but the hunt.”

The surprise he’d expected to see in Shaxx’s posture wasn’t there. He seemed entirely unruffled, as if Shin had stated the time of day to him, and not that Shin had admitted something akin to retirement by entrusting another Guardian with a secret he’d been sworn to for as long as he’d known it. Shin was almost disappointed by the absolute lack of a response.

“I know,” Shaxx said finally, when it became clear that Shin was waiting.

He blinked. “How?”

Shaxx jerked his chin in the direction of the screen. On it, the Crucible match was coming to a close. “See for yourself.”

The blue team was ahead in the game of Control, but only barely – one more minute on the timer to go, and red was claiming the B flag. Whoever was picking players to spectate clearly preferred one over the rest, and when Shin realized why, he stood up out of his seat, heart in his throat.

Gold trim, easy weight, smooth trigger – the Guardian had The Last Word in their hand. And they were a natural with it, already practiced, playing corners, dancing between gunfights. Writing their own ballad already. Starting their own tale as his came to its end.

Some unspeakable emotion clutched at Shin’s chest. He couldn’t put a name to it, but whatever it was cut deep and soothed over all at once. Hope sang in his heart. Pain rang out with it, but the hope won. Just as he’d prayed it would.

“When I saw it, I first thought you must be dead to give up that gun,” Shaxx said to him, though Shin’s eyes never left that screen. “Then I realized – if you were dead, the City itself would be in mourning for you. We would have known.”

The game finished with the blue team clinging to their victory by an inch. The crowd watching the game erupted into cheers. Shin’s blood burned along with every second of applause.

“Arcite is commentating in my place for now. You owe me a match, Shin.” Shaxx folded his arms over his chest, reclining in the booth. “I expect to see you teaching these newborns how to fight.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Shin said over his shoulder, already turning on his heel and heading on out the door.

Shaxx picked up the forgotten whiskey, turning it between his fingers so the liquid swirled inside the glass. He pulled his helmet off, took a breath, and then downed the remaining drink. “To the end of his hunt,” he said, placing the glass back onto the table carefully. He had Crucible to catch up on.

 

_The gun came to you? How does it feel in your grip?_

Shin was never more honest than he was in those letters to the Guardian. It was easier to write it all out than it was to bother trying to schedule a sit-down chat with them; they were the most sought-after person around these days. That Drifter somehow managed to monopolize so much of their time wasn’t unexpected. Shin’d spent a lotta time with him. He knew his charm.

Hell, Shin had known his charm for years. The man could change his name a hundred times and Shin would still recognize his shrewd eyes, his sly hook of a smirk, the fear that drove every one of his actions. Hope was a slippery thing and Drifter was the worst sort, but he had that shine to him that always had Shin crawling back for more.

Shin shook off the familiar longing as he had for the past dozens of years. Now that he knew The Last Word had another wielder, he could rest easy. But it’d be the first rest he’d had in a long, long while. He wasn’t practiced at it.

But he _was_ practiced at turning up in places he wasn’t wanted.

Strange, how he felt his nerves fray more at the concept of this than any shootout he’d ever been in, any duel he’d ever walked away from. Strange and unnatural.

He’d set fire to all his Renegade gear somewhere in the EDZ, so he couldn’t very well go for the dramatic reveal, which was all well and good. He wanted to dip a toe in before jumping into the lion’s den anyway, so that he could avoid being throttled before getting a single word out. Or worse, have Drifter book it elsewhere. Wouldn’t that be just the thing, finally trying to tie up the only loose end remaining and having to track the guy across the system? Like hell Shin was letting him get away this time.

Undaunted, Shin donned some old Crucible gear and stored his ship in the hangar. He walked up to the bridge, (casually avoiding Shaxx’s focused attention swinging his way the second he stepped foot in view), under the skylight, down the hall, took a right turn.

Breathed in.

And dipped his head under the grate and stepped into the alley.

Drifter had already swung around to face him by the time Shin straightened up again. Part of him wondered if the reason the gate was always kept down was so he’d have the time to look at who it was before they were fully in the door. Smart.

“You here for Gambit?” Drifter said, changing whatever he’d been toying with on the worktable between his hands, and then behind his back and away into the worktable drawer. “Not many players right now, they’re all preppin’ for Crimson Days, y’know how it is. Buuut –” He leaned in, conspiratorial, smiling. “Not many players means not much competition.”

Shin’s heart was beating all out of order. He hadn’t worn a helmet. If Drifter had any inkling of recognition towards his face, he would’ve been much less friendly already. He kept his expression reined in, real close.

“You ain’t the first Guardian to go all shy on me,” Drifter said then, as the few seconds of silence were apparently too much for him to bear. “But hey, listen, stranger. You don’t wanna play Gambit? Then go on, get. I’m havin’ a rough day. Some punk Guardian’s got ahold of a certain gun and I’m workin’ on the situation.”

And then Drifter glanced down at his belt. The tiniest furrow appeared between his brows as he took in the empty holster.

“Lemme guess, you’re tryin’ to snag a gun for yourself too?” he asked, slower now, but his sharp eyes gave away a flicker of uncertainty. “Otherwise, ah…I don’t do handouts.”

Shin reached into his pocket. _I can make it up to you_ , Drifter’d said once with that sly smile, sneaky fingers slipping a coin into his pants – a coin with a symbol Shin knew real, real well.

He flicked the pretty green coin into the air. Despite a startled noise, Drifter caught it and looked at whichever side was up. Shin could make an educated guess, considering on his side he could see twin snakes pinched between Drifter’s fingers.

Drifter stared at the coin for a long, hard moment. Didn’t look at him. Didn’t move. Just stared at that coin. Likely, there weren’t many with the Malfeasance symbol on it. It had to be a dead giveaway.

“I’m not armed,” Shin said, figuring he might as well state the obvious.

“Hell’re you doin’ here then?” Drifter asked, voice low and rough.

 _Good question_ , Shin thought, feeling a touch of madness.

“You know _my_ Guardian’s runnin’ around with _your_ fuckin’ gun?” Drifter snapped suddenly. He slammed the coin down onto the worktable. “Go get it back! Are you _crazy?_ ”

Shin shook his head once. “I gave it to them –”

Drifter recoiled, lit up with something frantic, something manic, threw his hands in the air and laughed. “What, getting friendly with me wasn’t enough for you? You wanna torment me through tryin’ to win over my crew too? Go on, do it! They ain’t your type anyway –”

And just like that, Drifter was pointing Malfeasance at his nose. Shin stopped breathing.

“Almost thought I’d gotten lucky,” sneered Drifter. “Thinkin’ you’d gone and gotten yourself ganked and some idiot’d just picked the body clean.” He placed his finger on the trigger. “But that would’ve been too easy. Right, brother?”

Shin thought up a hundred different things to say, a thousand different reassurances. _I’m not hunting you. I’m not here to kill you. I never wanted to take you down. Vale lied about the Man with the Golden Gun, you’re safe, I promise –_

“Not here to kill you,” Shin said, quiet.

Drifter snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

“I could’ve taken you out in your sleep ten times over. I don’t want you dead.”

Drifter’s fist bunched up next to his body, his knuckles going white on the hand holding Malfeasance up to Shin’s face. Shin took in the rest of him, how his weight was in his toes, the jerky, upward twitch of his lip.

All of him seemed ready to run, not fight. Especially now; what a wonder, to have the man of your nightmares show up and concede.

Shin had to bank on the fear, though.

He snatched Drifter’s wrist in his hand and helped Drifter level Malfeasance clean between his eyes. Maybe it was a low blow, a dirty tactic, but more than he wanted to think about rested on this one moment. Or maybe Drifter’s frantic, nervous energy was contagious. Either way, it was a stupid gamble and he knew it.

Judging by the wide eyed look Drifter was giving him, he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“You want _me_ dead so bad, you kill me. Right now, right here,” Shin told him, keeping his voice measured. Malfeasance's metal was cold against his brow, deep cold, a hungry cold. “Pull the trigger.”

Drifter’s eyes went narrow and angry. His teeth flashed, gritted tightly together, but Shin felt his hand shake. Just a little.

“You heard me. Pull. The. Trigger.” Shin leaned into the barrel, never taking his eyes off of Drifter. “What’s the problem? I don’t got my gun. Not about to pull nothin’, swear to you. So go ahead, kill me –”

Drifter yanked himself free of Shin’s grip, growling out a furious noise as he shook Malfeasance out, like the real trouble was that the gun had jammed, not that he couldn’t make himself fire. He shoved Shin back, made him stumble, and then stalked off, deeper into the alley. When he turned around again, he pointed his finger right at Shin, shaking his head fiercely while he closed the space he’d just made between them.

“You, _you_ ,” Drifter hissed, “ _You’re_ the fuckin’ problem! Showin’ up, makin’ me think you’re not playin’ some game with me. What’re you here for, if you ain’t here to kill me?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

It was hard to judge which one of them was more surprised at the sudden transparency. Drifter dropped that accusatory finger and Shin schooled his expression into something a little less sincere. He’d spent too much time carefully tucking away all his longing aches for them to come out of his mouth that easy.

Drifter stared at him. Something calculating was there behind his eyes, but as soon as Shin met his gaze, he was looking the other way, teeth clenched into a grimace once more. But there was a second glance Shin didn’t miss, almost cursory if not for the fact that Shin had seen him size up plenty of things in the exact same way before. He’d seen him look at the Renegade with that curious, critical edge – figuring him out, and coming a little too close for comfort.

“Alright,” Drifter said. He didn’t tuck Malfeasance away, but he did jerk his shoulder in the direction of the lonely mattress hidden in the back of the alley.

Knowing what’d happened on this mattress, Shin didn’t really want to sit on it. But he did anyway, as Drifter went over and shut the grate before joining him. He sat across from Shin, squatted there against the wall, watching him. This was a standoff of a different kind.

“You come in here tryin’ to prove somethin’ to me, or to yourself, I don’t care,” Drifter started. He jostled Malfeasance and rested his elbows against his knees with a guise of laziness, like he was trying to rebuild his carefree persona after Shin had so drastically shattered it earlier. “Sure earned some pity, for whatever _that’s_ worth.”

Shin bristled at the jab, but kept his mouth shut.

“If you wanna play nice so bad then…” Drifter’s eyes raked over him again, this time with more intent. “Why don’t you start from the beginning for me, Renegade?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. :)


End file.
